Seeking Truth
by HollyShadow88
Summary: Four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, a young woman mysteriously appears at Harry Potter's desk, bringing seemingly impossible news. Together, they begin a quest to uncover the truth. Lame summary is lame. Rated T for slight language and because I'm anal.
1. Chapter 1

_Seeking Truth_

**The inevitable occurred, ladies and gentlemen - I started a Harry Potter fanfiction. To those who are reading Here and There, never fear; that story shall have its proper end. I'm at the point where I'm slowly becoming bald attempting to figure out where it has decided to go, and therefore need to set it aside and work on something else. Welcome to that Something Else. This is still a work in progress, but the first three chapters are roughly completed, meaning that they should be up relatively soon. Until then...enjoy my first jump into writing with one of my favorites stories. ^.^**

Chapter One – Meeting Potter

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry's attention was drawn from his work at the feminine voice before him. It sounded, strangely enough, both confident and tentative, as if the speaker knew what she ought to do but was terrified to do so. His emerald eyes shot up to take in the woman who stood tensely before his desk. She was taller than he, curvy without looking too thin, and surprisingly muscular. Her curling black hair rested in a low ponytail on her neck, but wisps of it dangled crazily about her face in defiance. The dark silver eyes that studied him back were round in surprise, framed by a plain oval pair of navy glasses. She wore only a touch of makeup, from what he could tell, and seemed particularly uncomfortable in the olive robes she toyed with unconsciously. Giving her a bright smile, Harry nodded.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

He saw her breath hitch slightly as she clasped her hands before her, tight enough that the knuckles turned pale. For a long while she simply stared at him, occasionally opening her mouth as if to speak but changing it to a cough as uncertainty overwhelmed her. He was on the verge of suggesting they move to an empty conference room when she found her voice once more.

"Hi," she said lamely and cringed. The internal struggle of remaining calm without sounding like an idiot was apparent on her face, and Harry found it all highly amusing. "My name is Elizabeth – " She cut herself off, brows furrowing and a slightly dark shadow overcoming her features. Her gaze fell to her hands, where she twirled a plain copper ring on her thumb. "Well, Elizabeth's my first name. That much I know for sure."

Harry's curiosity continued to escalate as he observed her. Why was a young American witch standing cryptically before his Ministry desk, speaking in riddles? Normally he would have been irritated by this seemingly pointless interruption – even though he wasn't out on the field at the moment didn't mean he wasn't busy as hell – but his interest in the woman won against the emotion. Oddly, he was drawn to know more.

"This was a stupid idea," the woman suddenly affirmed, her tone matter-of-fact. "I'm bothering you at work…and I don't even really _know_…and I can't even…" She sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and readjusting her wand. Harry hadn't even noticed it before; the wooden instrument rested between her ear and the glasses in a very Luna-like fashion. The action made him grin until he noticed her slowly backing away.

"Wait…Miss Elizabeth!" he called as she twisted about, already racing down the rows of desks. He rose to his feet to follow, ignoring the curious glares of his co-workers as he attempted to catch up. He could not feel certain why, but he knew he could not let the woman leave just yet.

She paced by the lift when he finally discovered her, but unfortunately he was not the first. As the doors rattled open, the Minister himself stepped out, instantly taking her in as she made to enter his place. With a booming laugh that made her jump, he placed an incredulous hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Potter?" Kingsley asked, his eyes raking over her now-white face. "It cannot be! Hermione said you'd be arriving soon…but certainly you must…and here's Harry now!"

Reluctantly, she spun about, mouth gaping as she turned to Harry. He was frozen to the spot more solidly than if someone had cursed him there, his mind attempting to understand what Kingsley had called her. "Potter…?" he muttered, finally taking a single step forward. His motion, though subtle, set her off, causing her to lunge into the lift just as the doors began to close. He heard her call out to him before she vanished behind the enormous barrier.

"I need to go – I'm sorry!" With that, the woman vanished, leaving a flabbergasted Harry to turn to his sheepish boss.

"What the hell was _that_ about?"

Kingsley frowned, unable to properly meet Harry's eyes. "I believe I may have just made a very grave mistake."

"Stupidstupidstupidstupid_stupid_," Liz muttered to herself as she made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, the inn where Hermione had arranged for her to stay. Barely in the country (_back _in the country, she reminded herself with a grimace) and she already made a fool of herself. She stormed into the establishment, ignoring the barkeep's concerned expression as she bolted up to her room. Locking the door behind her, she yanked off the atrocious robes and threw them on her bed, digging through her bag for her OWL. She couldn't remember life before the wizarding smart phone – it had all of the efficiency and convenience of its Muggle counterpart with a few magical touches that made it a godsend. She'd had it altered so she could use it in the UK, mostly because she hadn't been away from her shop for more than an afternoon since opening it two years previously and was anxious to ensure her employees could reach her if need be. Pressing her thumb to the screen, the device recognized her print and unlocked, allowing her to quickly dial the necessary number. She set the phone on the mantel and plopped ungracefully into an armchair as it rang.

Faintly, she heard an anxious male voice answer. "Lizzie? That you? Are you there?"

"Conrad, view," she demanded of the device, and immediately the voice grew louder as the phone responded to her command. Before long, the tall, wiry frame of her assistant materialized before the fireplace, his colors dimmed to pastels by the magic as if she were watching a ghost of his shape. His already concerned expression turned darker as she came into view.

"What happened? What'd that bastard of a British hero do?"

She chuckled, giving the man a small grin that was more of a scowl. "It wasn't him, Alex, it was me. I couldn't do it."

"So wait…he still doesn't know?" her friend asked, taking a seat on his end of the line. The sight of Alex seemingly suspended in air in front of her empty fireplace nearly sent her into a fit of hysterical giggles, but Liz fought the inclination. The boy was already concerned enough about the state of her sanity.

"No. God, Alex, it was so awkward…he was minding his own business, doing his _job_…and I just showed up, completely unannounced, and without any idea what I was going to do or even say. He was so _nice_ and I just…froze. I couldn't ruin his day with something like this; he didn't deserve it."

"Finding out he may have a relative isn't going to ruin his day, Lizzie," Alex reassured her gently, pity in his tone. "If he's as great as everyone claims – hell, if he's a decent enough human being in general – he should be _happy _about it."

Sighing, she kicked off her shoes, pulling her knees over the arm of her chair to allow her feet to dangle. "_I know_. But he's been through so much already, and he's only twenty for heaven's sake, and I've had it so calm in comparison…I never should have come, not without understanding for sure. This isn't worth it. _I'm _not worth it."

"Elizabeth Anne Hogan, or Potter, or whoever the hell you are, you are _so_ worth it. You are smart, witty, brilliant, attractive, and possibly the funniest person I know. I am more than willing to share you with those Red Coats simply because everyone ought to have the chance to meet the awesome that is _you _– Mr. Golden Boy included."

"That was so offensive…," she muttered, trying to hide her smile behind her hand. "'Red Coats,' Alex? Really? Add that to the list of things I should not say while on this side of the pond."

"Well, it got you to smile, didn't it?" he replied with a self-satisfied grin before becoming serious once more. "But seriously, Liz – he needs to know."

With a grimace, she said, "About that…he might by now. There was this guy…he recognized me, don't ask me how, and called me Potter in front of him…and I ran. God, I am such a coward, Alex."

"You are _not _a coward – it's a natural reaction to run from a possible threat. You may not have been through the same problems, Lizzie, but you've had your fair share of hardship and performed amazingly. You don't give yourself enough credit, my friend."

"I need to find Hermione," she stated, more to herself than to her assistant. Abruptly, she glanced at her watch and back at him, face rueful. "Alex! It's 11 a.m. here! That means…five hours…I woke you up! I'm so sorry!"

He shrugged her apology off. "I assumed you'd call; I was already awake. Besides, I need to get in to the shop a bit early this morning anyway, to prepare for the first day sans owner. Consider yourself my alarm clock."

"I better let you go," she countered, giving him a soft smile. "Good luck today. Don't let Gorton blow himself up. Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine – worry about your own issues. Keep us updated."

"I will, and hopefully I won't call you at 6 a.m. again. Talk to you soon."

"Lizzie. Speak with him. He can't be mad at you – you knew as much as he did. He deserves to know."

"I'm aware. Just…give me some time. Miss you."

"We miss you too. Everything will be fine." With that, his image flickered and Liz was alone. Groaning, she pulled herself to her feet, searching for the last letter she received from Hermione. They began their correspondence a few months before, when Hermione contacted Liz with information that jarred the American's seemingly straightforward existence. It took a long while (and many, _many _letters) for Liz to even begin to believe the witch, but the evidence in her favor was astronomical. She was almost certainly a Potter, and the famous Harry Potter's sole remaining magical blood relative. Such a possibility demanded to be acted upon, leading Liz to the country she was born in yet did not remember.

Finding Hermione's letter, she glanced over it, searching for the address to her flat. Summoning her OWL, she read it the address, and before long a thin white line, visible only to her, led her in the proper direction. Pocketing the gadget and her wand as she reached for her Muggle jacket, she made her way out of the inn, intent upon waiting for Hermione to return so that they could speak.

Harry couldn't get any more information out of Kingsley, much to his frustration. Unable to continue his work until his curiosity had been satisfied, he went to the one person he sought answers from since the age of eleven: Hermione Granger. He followed the familiar path to her office, hoping she wouldn't be too busy on her lunch hour to have a chat with one of her best friends. As he reached the end of the long line of closed doors that eventually led to hers, he spotted her and Ron walking in his direction. The looks of pleasant surprise on both their faces faded when they noticed his expression.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked, releasing his fiancé's hand. "What happened?"

"I think…I just met a relative," he mumbled, running a hand through the chaotic mass of hair atop his head. Ron seemed as incredulous as he was, but Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, brown eyes wide.

"Oh no…she's here? Already?" She darted back to her office, the two men close behind. Grabbing her purse and giving Ron an apologetic squeeze on the arm, she turned to Harry. "It's complicated, Harry – I haven't the time to explain now. I'm sorry. I've got to find her."

"Hermione, wait! Who is she? Where are you going?" Harry's desperation was evident in his tone, causing her to stop.

"I can't do the thing properly right now, but please, just…trust me. I need to find her. I never expected her to come to you first…bloody independent Americans…I'll be back soon!" She dashed toward the lifts, but Harry had been deserted in such a way too often that day. Dragging a very confused Ron along behind him, they followed her, staying close enough to see her without being spotted. She immediately headed for the Leaky Cauldron, darting upstairs and back down almost instantly. She did not seem surprised to find the two waiting for her below.

"She's gone," Hermione fretted as Ron placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What did you do to her, Harry James Potter?!"

"What _I _did?" he flustered, his anger rising. "She came to _me_, Hermione! Completely unexpected and completely _mental_! Blathering about names and speaking in puzzles…tell me now, Hermione, before we go any further. Who is she?"

Reluctantly, Hermione breathed out a sigh. "Her name's Elizabeth Hogan – at least it was. She's a highly gifted Potions mistress, the youngest America's seen in decades, and owns a shop outside of New York City. I decided to do some digging, after being told…something…and found her." Her eyes finally met his, a mixture of fear and excitement in her gaze. "Harry, I think she's your cousin."

**There's a reason why this is a work in progess...and typos are inevitable. My fuming inner editor is ashamed. Kudos to my friend Jori for finding my error and correcting me. "Gastronomical" indeed... XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**Howdy folks! I give you ...chapter two! It's beginning to look like this will end up being anywhere between eight to ten chapters - originally I was thinking it would become almost double that, until I realized that my vision would not be the best it could the way I had planned it out. Therefore, once Seeking Truth is finished, expect a second, slightly fluffier story that will be called Seeking Hope. Don't worry, I won't even start that one until this is finished (it's about time I actually finish a story I start, eh?). Anyway, enjoy! P.S. reviews are better than a hot date and a bottle of Firewhiskey - humor me? ;D**

Chapter Two – Questions and Answers

Liz was surprised to spot a rather bushy haired young woman approach Hermione's flat a little over an hour after she arrived. Thankfully there was a small Muggle cafe directly across the street from the seemingly endless row of apartments, allowing Liz to observe without seeming too overly awkward. She had ordered a large coffee and positioned herself at a table outside, where she could watch the comings and goings surrounding the flat relatively easily. There she had sat serenely for the last hour, sipping her drink and scribbling notes on a particularly complex potion she developed not long before leaving for London. She had just finished the last requirement for her Potions mastery when Hermione's first letter came, giving her little chance to savor the accomplishment at the time. As the youngest American to become a Potions mistress since 1817, there had been quite a lot of media attention surrounding her, but for the most part she'd ignored it. Her focus had been altered to discovering the truth, leaving her little patience to bother with the press.

That, however, did not mean she wasn't working. When her attention was not on Hermione and her various theories, it was focused on her passion and ensuring her shop thrived. Her reputation as an excellent source for popular magical remedies preceded her mastery; her client list had been impressive even before the reporters had emphasized her skill, and only improved after. Once she returned home, she and Alex had plans to open a second shop close to their old school, Atholwood, which he would run. While he was still far from gaining his own mastery, she was pleased to have him as an apprentice and knew he had a decent amount of skill. He learned quickly, did his work well, and was an excellent friend besides.

It was during this reverie that the woman approached the flat, gaining Liz's full attention. She suspected it was Hermione, but couldn't be certain. Tucking her notebook away, she rose to her feet, crossing the street to loom near her door. Raising her hand to knock, she was startled by the lack of wards holding her back. The war may have been over for nearly four years, but surely the woman went through enough over her many misadventures to have the right to be excessively careful. Regardless, she ought to be grateful; at least she could get in contact with the witch.

The woman, fairly pretty despite her wild hair, yanked open the door, her chocolate eyes huge in surprise. Taking in Liz's appearance, her face turned from confusion to excitement as she pulled her inside.

"Liz! I've been looking everywhere for you! Thank Merlin I factored you into my most recent ward adjustment…welcome to London!" Hugging her fiercely, Liz couldn't help but smile. This vibrant young witch was Hermione Granger, no question. She was pleased to see she was just as enthusiastic in real life as she was in her letters.

"Hermione. I'm so glad we finally get to meet." Hermione led her to a sitting room, where a fire crackled merrily in the grate. Puzzled as to why she had lit a fire on such a pleasant spring day, she was interrupted as the flames turned violently green, revealing two male figures. As the pair absentmindedly brushed themselves off, Liz bent down by the fire's edge, watching in awe as it returned to its original state.

"The Floo Network," she muttered, gaze searching out the inevitable pot of powder certain to be close by. Spotting it quickly, she rose to grab a handful, allowing the fine powder to run across her fingers. Turning to Hermione, she asked, "Has anyone ever thought of using this in a potion?"

"I'm not sure…" she replied, nervously looking at her new guests. "Liz, perhaps – "

"It has astounding qualities," Liz continued, attention back on the powder. "Imagine, if combined with the right mixture…perhaps something to improve broom balance, or some sort of anti-Apparation charm to stop splinching or motion sickness…if only I had a lab…"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Liz, this is Ronald Weasley, my fiancé. I believe you've already met Harry – " At Harry's name, Liz spun around, horror struck. Green eyes once again met silver as the two gaped at one another, neither sure what to say or positive who ought to speak first. Eventually, Liz found her voice.

"Hi," she breathed, then shook her head. "I'm the youngest person to gain Potions mastery in over a century, I swear. I am not normally this stupid." Harry let out an anxious laugh, causing Liz to grin sheepishly before continuing. "I'm sorry. About earlier. I had no idea what the hell I was doing."

"It's fine," Harry replied, his voice a strong contrast to hers. "I'm sorry too."

"For what? You've nothing to apologize for – I was the idiot, not you."

"I'm sorry I didn't _know_," he whispered, looking down at his shoes. Unable to think of a proper response, Liz stood silent. The other man, a redhead whose build reminded her of Alex, stepped forward to interject.

"It's true, then?" he asked, glaring hard at Liz. "You're related? And you've only just come _now_?"

"Ronald!" Hermione cried with a gasp. "She knew no more than Harry did! And we still don't know for sure if it's even true – that's why I invited Liz here in the first place!"

"He's been through hell – we _all _have – and she just expects to waltz in now? Look at what we've done…while she sat around in her fancy America becoming a potions mistress. He risked his life, hundreds of times, while she did _nothing_! How is that fair?"

"It's not," Liz replied instantly, watching Harry. "It's not fair and I know it. I should've _been _here, I should've _helped_…but I didn't. I didn't know. I should've known. God, I should've done _something_…" She ran a hand through her hair, unknowingly copying Harry's actions earlier. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry. I keep thinking I'm doing the right thing and then…I'm sorry for disturbing you today, Mr. Potter. If you'll excuse me – "

She made for the door, but a firm hand stopped her. Reflexes acting before her mind caught up, she spun around, pinning the body to the ground and pointing her formerly hidden wand directly between her attacker's eyes. It wasn't until she noticed the round glasses that she gasped, jumping to her feet. As Harry rose tentatively, she backed away, hand covering her mouth.

"Oh my – I am _so sorry_," she apologized again, attempting to flee. She stopped at his next words.

"Bloody hell, Elizabeth, with reflexes like that I'd hire you as an Auror in an instant." The grin on his face was quickly mirrored in hers, and she let out a tense laugh.

"Please, it's Liz – my mother's the last person to call me Elizabeth. God, I can't do anything right here, can I?" she asked, grin still tentatively in place. "I feel like all I'm doing is apologizing, but hell, Harry, I'm sorry. This is ridiculous. I can't make heads or tails of any of it." Pausing to study him briefly, she sighed. "I'll be the first to admit that I haven't a clue what I'm doing. All I know for sure is that seven months ago, I received a letter from a Miss Hermione Granger claiming that I had family here. As someone who's been alone for close to thirteen years now, I can assure you it was the best news I've had in a very long while." She tucked her wand back behind her ear and shrugged, hands gravitating toward her jacket pockets. "I imagine that if anyone could understand, it'd be you."

"I do," Harry whispered, his grin faded but still in place. "Merlin, but I do. And I sincerely hope it's true."

The two awkwardly gaped at one another for a time before Hermione interrupted. "Well then, let's get to it, shall we?"

The act of explaining everything to Harry and Ron was rather complicated. It began with Hermione revealing that a certain Molly Weasley, in one of her various weekly chats with her future daughter-in-law, mentioned one Andrew Potter and his wife Olivia in passing. Though Hermione could not gain much more additional information at the time, she worked on Molly and Arthur over a few weeks until bits of the story revealed themselves.

Andrew, the elder Potter by two years, married Olivia Page when James was in his seventh year. As the war raged and it became more evident that Voldemort's focus was on the Potters, Dumbledore offered a solution: escape to America, at least temporarily. James and Lily, fiercely true to their Gryffindor pride, refused; Andrew and Olivia, the calculating Ravenclaws, did not. Before anyone really knew what happened, they were gone, vanished as though they never existed. The Weasleys, or any other wizarding family in Britain, never heard from the pair again.

It was what occurred beyond this point that made matters baffling. The only person to know the full scope of the story was, apparently, Dumbledore. With the man's death, the truth died with him. Though Hermione had been able to discover enough on her own to find Liz, they still could not know for certain if their speculations on the matter were true.

Harry's righteous indignation flared strongly when he heard of the supposed treachery. It took all three of them to convince him not to go to the Burrow immediately and confront the matriarchs. As it was, Ron left not long after Hermione finished to speak with his father, his own eyes flashing rather dangerously. Hermione seemed anxious, but she let him go – Arthur could take care of himself, particularly against his youngest son's fury. Once he left, Harry and Liz watched each other warily.

"So," Liz began, once again twirling her copper ring. "Where do we go from here?"

"I want to speak to Arthur and Molly before doing anything," Harry immediately stated. "I want to hear it from them, individually, why they kept this from me. It's Sirius all over again."

"Sirius Black?" Liz questioned, the name sparking a memory. She vaguely recalled hearing about the fugitive in her third year at school, around the same time she began receiving personal lessons in Potions. "He was the murderer, right? The one who escaped your jail?"

Harry quickly explained the full circumstances, finishing with the man's death in their fifth year. Mentioning it was obviously still difficult for Harry, and as his throat caught, Liz unconsciously reached for his hand. Giving it a tight squeeze, she conveyed her words through touch – _I understand_. He appeared reassured by the action.

"Well, this has all been very…enlightening," Liz said with a smile as she rose to her feet. "But I've certainly taken up more than enough of both your time. Besides, jet lag is kicking my ass."

"You're staying at the Leaky indefinitely?" Hermione asked, eyes darting mischievously between her companions.

Liz shrugged. "I suppose so. It's a decent establishment, centrally located, and I like it. I don't know how long I'll be here, but for now it seems like my best option."

"Liz, will you excuse me for a moment? I'll be right back." Without another word, Harry darted to the fireplace, calling out an address as the green flames swallowed him. Liz watched the fire die back down with a bemused expression.

"What was _that _all about?"

"Oh, I've an idea," Hermione replied with a small smirk, before rising to fetch them tea. They sat in companionable conversation for some time, renewing in real life the friendship developed over letters, before Harry returned, beaming widely.

"It's settled – Liz, you'll be staying with me. I've talked it over with Gin and, while she still doesn't fully understand, she trusts my judgment. She's completely thrilled to meet you, by the way – says you absolutely _must _come to this Saturday's match."

Liz was far too startled by Harry's first revelation to even begin deciphering what else he said. "Stay…with you? Oh Harry, I couldn't possibly. I'll be fine at the Leaky, really."

The man couldn't hide the smirk on his face completely as he replied. "That's a shame, since I've already gone to the trouble of moving your things. Tom was more than willing to help when he found out you're a personal 'friend' of mine."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she fought down a grin. "Humph. I am more and more certain you're related to my father with each passing moment, Mr. Potter. That is exactly the kind of trickery _he _pulled on a daily basis."

Laughing, he grabbed her arm to pull her to the fireplace. "Come on, I'll give you your first Floo lesson. Mind, you need to be careful about your pronunciation – I'm not sure Knockturn Alley could handle a full-blown American in their midst."


	3. Chapter 3

**Good news, ladies and gents - the rough draft is officially complete! That means that things should really start coming along quickly now! I just need to finish typing it up and editing, so look forward to this being posted much sooner. Anyway, about the actual chapter...I'm not super happy with it, I'll admit. Let me know what you think.**

Chapter Three – Confronting the Weasleys

As fascinating as the concept of the Floo Network was to the American, Liz loathed it. The sensation turned her stomach violently, leaving her with the sensation of taking off in a plane stuck in a tailspin. When they arrived at Harry's flat, she collapsed on the nearby couch, eyes screwed shut as she attempted to right herself. Eventually, the twisting sensation settled so she could look about her. His flat was surprisingly simple, colored mostly in light earth tones and sparsely decorated, predominantly with photographs. A small table beside the armrest she propped herself against held a simple black frame. The photo inside was of Harry and a young woman in what seemed to be sports robes. Her vibrant red hair was tied back in a braid along her back, and her bright face was flushed from exertion. Harry's arm rested on her shoulders and both beamed widely at her as they waved.

"That was right after her first match with the Holyhead Harpies," Harry stated as he reentered the room, a glass of water in his hand. With a shy smile, he sat down beside her, passing her the drink. She nodded in thanks, sipping it as she turned back to the photo.

"The Holyhead Harpies…that's the all-female Quidditch team, right? Who is she, anyway?"

"Ginny Weasley," he answered, leaning back into the cushion. "My girlfriend, the youngest Weasley sibling, and the only girl besides Molly. She's a damn good Chaser, but she's decent at Seeking too. She's beat me to the Snitch more than once."

"I'll pretend I have any idea what you're talking about," Liz replied with a snort. "Quidditch is more of a British thing – we play it back home, of course, but not with the same amount of _enthusiasm_. Not that I would understand it regardless; I'm not exactly known for my athleticism. Toying with potions will always be my area of specialty."

Harry chuckled in response. "My potions skills are limited, to put it lightly. Severus Snape may have been one of the bravest men I've ever known, but his teaching style was lacking, at least for me."

"That's right, Snape was your Potions teacher, wasn't he?" she asked enthusiastically, eyes widening in excitement. "He was _brilliant_. I would've loved the chance to work under him."

"He was," Harry agreed, the shadow of a smile on his face. "Unfortunately I didn't take advantage of his intelligence before it was too late." Shaking himself slightly, his smile turned genuine again. "Enough about Snape, I want to know more about you. Where did you go to school? What's your shop for? What's America like?"

Setting her cup aside, Liz tucked her feet beneath her and considered his questions. "I attended Atholwood, in rural Vermont. My house was Bailey, which has a large focus on charms and Potions in particular. When I was in my third year, I started my tentative apprenticeship with John Crawford, a Potions master who's close friends with our regular teacher. Crawford's the only reason I'm already a mistress – he agreed to help me, God knows why, and was able to work around my normal school schedule in order to get the mastery going sooner than most. As for my shop…I brew and sell specialized potions, unsurprisingly. I opened it two years ago and took on my assistant, Alex Faulkner, last year, after he graduated. Having him around is fantastic – it lets me actually concentrate on the brewing and experimenting side of it while he handles most of the business end. He's running the shop while I'm here."

Before Harry could respond, the front door burst open, revealing the same redheaded woman from the photo. She spotted Liz instantly and rushed forward, pulling her to her feet and into a massive hug. Startled but amused, Liz awkwardly hugged her back.

Chortling, Harry pried his girlfriend away from Liz. "Give her air, Gin, you haven't even officially met yet! Ginny, this is Liz. Liz, my…_enthusiastic_ girlfriend."

Ginny lightly punched his arm before kissing his cheek. "Arse. Liz, it's amazing to meet you. I went to Hermione's as soon as practice was over and she explained everything. I can hardly believe it."

Liz smiled at the younger woman, liking her instantly. "Neither did I at first, but Hermione is persistent. It became increasingly clear that it was worth investigating, so here I am."

"Speaking of investigating…" Harry interrupted, a frown at his brow. "Gin, are your parents home?"

Ginny's face clouded as she replied, "Mom is, but Dad was still at work when I stopped by to change. They're expecting you for dinner tonight anyway; just don't do anything stupid. They must have kept it from you for a reason, Harry."

Harry grunted, pulling Liz toward the fireplace. "I'll do my best. Come on, Liz."

"Hold it – we're not using the Floo again, are we?" Liz frowned, eyeing the fire warily. "That was quite possibly the worst experience of my life – I'd rather not repeat it less than an hour after my first go."

"We can Side-Along this time," Harry replied, attempting to hide his amusement. "We'll have to walk a bit to get past the wards, but if that's what you'd prefer…"

"Definitely. I'll study the powder, but beyond that I'd rather not touch the stuff for at least another day or two. Or forever."

Laughing, Harry held her arm, pecked Ginny on the lips, and vanished with Liz with a resounding crack.

The Burrow was in view long before they reached it. The building was quirky, a mass of bizarre shapes and protruding angles that highly intrigued Liz. For the most part, the two were silent as they made the trek to the house, Harry attempting to collect himself while Liz let him. He seemed much calmer as they made for a back door, entering the kitchen where a sweet looking older woman greeted Harry eagerly. After encasing him in a hug, she turned her bright gaze on Liz, a curious confusion crossing her face.

"Molly Weasley, dear," she said, holding a hand out for Liz to shake. "Are you a friend of Harry's?"

Liz glanced at Harry, her astonishment echoed in his own. "Um…kind of. You mean you don't know me?"

"Should I?" Mrs. Weasley asked, frowning slightly at the wizard beside her. Just as he was about to respond, the door burst open, revealing a tall, slightly balding gentleman with bulging eyes behind his glasses. He searched the room for his wife, darting forward to grab her by the shoulders.

"Molly! You'll never believe…" Abruptly, he realized she was not alone. Noticing Harry and the unknown woman at his side, he gasped, releasing Mrs. Weasley and taking a single step in Liz's direction. Turning to Harry, he whispered, "Is this…_her_?"

As Harry nodded solemnly, Mrs. Weasley grew increasingly more frustrated. Crossing her arms, she glared at her husband. "Arthur, what is going on? Who is this young woman?"

"My name is Elizabeth, Liz to most," Liz interjected, gaining everyone's attention. "My parents were Andrew and Olivia Hogan…but we're pretty sure they originally went by a different name."

A dawning of understanding spread over Mrs. Weasley's face as she took in Liz's appearance more carefully. Reaching behind her, she sat down hard in a chair, a combined expression of horror and delight peeking around the hand that covered her mouth. Mr. Weasley, meanwhile, pursed his lips in a thin line as he leaned against the counter.

"Elizabeth…" Mrs. Weasley breathed, hints of tears appearing at the edges of her eyes. "I had no idea…Andrew and Olivia had a _child_?"

"Merlin," Mr. Weasley muttered as he sat down as well. "If we'd only known…"

"You mean…you didn't?" Harry asked, his anger gone in their obvious alarm. He had been prepared for a defending but strong pair of Weasleys; the fact that they were just as surprised as he was easily forced the fight from him. The last time he had seen them this shaken, it was immediately after the war.

"No," stated Mr. Weasley firmly, meeting Harry's eyes. "Once Andrew and Olivia left, we never heard from them again. There was no way to know they had had a child – it was part of the spell Dumbledore cast. It was as though they'd never existed."

"Harry." Her voice was soft, fear etched in the tone. "We never wanted to keep this from you. And had we known…spell or not, you ought to have been told. I'm so sorry."

Turning to Liz, Harry grinned meekly. "It seems as though everyone's apologizing to me today."

Shrugging, Liz grinned back. "Apparently, and for good reason too. No one hides from the Chosen One."

Mrs. Weasley let out a wet sob and lunged for Liz, quickly dissolving into tears on her shoulder. Stunned and not entirely certain what to do, Liz patted the woman's shoulder, sending Harry entreating glances. Without a word, he turned and began to prepare a pot of tea. Once the beverage was made, he placed a steaming cup in front of Mr. Weasley and pried Mrs. Weasley off enough to give her one as well. Soon the couple sat side-by-side, hands grasped tightly around their mugs.

"What _is _it with you people and tea?" Liz asked as Harry passed her one as well. He took a sip of his own before replying.

"Habit, I suppose. When in doubt, make tea."

Sipping slightly, she grimaced. "It isn't even that good…"

As Harry snorted into his cup, the elder Weasleys considered. The two got on so easily – it was as though they had always known each other, rather than just met. The more they watched her, the more obvious it all became. She had the Potter hair and face, the Page eyes and build. She even sounded like her mother, their inflections identical. Such observations did little to alleviate their guilt, however.

"Elizabeth, I believe you deserve an apology just as much as Harry does," Mr. Weasley stated, standing to face her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he sighed deeply. "I wish we had known. I wish we could have done something. All the time you've lost…"

"It doesn't matter," she replied smoothly, smiling up at him as she attempted to reassure him. "We're here now, aren't we? Might as well deal with the now properly rather than consider the might have beens."

"Remarkable," the man breathed out. "You're the image of Andrew Potter, words and all. I've not a single doubt you're his child."

Blushing slightly, Liz attempted to brush it off. "Dad always used to say I was Mom's miniature, but she agreed with you. When it went up as us against her, she had little chance and knew it. Dad and I would inevitably win."

"What happened to them?" Mrs. Weasley asked quietly. Liz's mood instantly darkened as she replied.

"I was eight. They were out of town on business – they both worked for the same company – and something happened. I still don't know all of the details. I was staying with a neighbor, Mrs. Thibault, who ended up taking me in after it all happened. I wish I could tell you more." Glimpsing down at her tea, her voice softened further. "I don't even know if they're really dead or not. It's like they…vanished." Startled, her large silver eyes fell on the others. "You don't think – "

"They would never do that to you, my dear," Mrs. Weasley interrupted firmly, reaching to grasp her hand. "The reason they left was to protect one another, and you, so it seems. They would never turn you away, I am certain. No parent could be that cruel, particularly a Potter."

The conversation came to a halt as voices from the other end of the house echoed toward the kitchen. Soon, two more redheaded men, one missing an ear, appeared in the doorway, wearing equally baffled expressions as they studied the scene they encountered. Rising to her feet, Mrs. Weasley immediately bustled about, continuing her previously interrupted preparations.

"You're staying for dinner, of course, Liz dear?" she asked from amid an array of dishes. Liz looked over at Harry, who stood laughing by the new arrivals.

"You're in for it now," he said with a half grin. "Once Molly Weasley's caught hold of you, there's no going back."


	4. Chapter 4

**Guys! Guys! This is the halfway point! Additionally, I am more than acutely aware how much of a jerk I am that it has taken so long to update. I have no excuse beyond laziness. I'm sorry. Moving on to the actual story now...this one's exciting, and comes with lots of new info. We'll finally get the first of many answers Liz and Harry have...good, fun times. Enjoy (and let me know what you think? :) )!**

Chapter Four – The Next Logical Step

"So…explain to me which one's which again?"

With a chuckle, Harry leaned over and whispered while gesturing toward each as he spoke, "Bill's the oldest; he's home with his wife Fleur, who's on bed rest with their second child. Charlie's next – he's nearly always away in Romania for his job. Then there's Percy, the one in glasses, then George, Ron, and Ginny. Fred was George's twin."

She frowned, pushing a bit of food on her plate. "That's awful. I can't even imagine…" She'd heard the Weasleys' story before, not long after the war ended. With a son in the Golden Trio, it was inevitable that their tale would reach an ever news-seeking America. She'd felt terrible for the surviving twin as soon as she heard – now, after meeting George, the pity melted to admiration. The loss crushed the man, certainly, but he managed quite well regardless. The business he and his brother created thrived and grew, even with half of its owners gone, and he seemed relatively content considering. While she liked each family member she'd met thus far, the surviving twin quickly proved to be her favorite for various reasons.

After the arrival of George and Percy and a hurried yet unspecific explanation from Harry, Liz settled into the busyness of preparing dinner for a large group. Her fascination led her to observe everything with a strong interest; even before her parents' disappearance, her family had been a small one, and her living arrangements after that point did little to change that. Molly Weasley, meanwhile, thrived on the pressure of providing an excellent meal for an enormous mass of ravenous adults. With all of her children grown and out of the house, such opportunities grew increasingly slimmer, leaving her to relish the chances she received. The process fascinated Liz as much as it daunted her.

As family and friends continued to trickle in, Liz chose to situate herself slightly separate from the rest for most of the evening. She wasn't sure of her place here; while possibly related to Harry, who would inevitably become an official member of the family eventually, and friends with Hermione, the entire event was generally uncomfortable, and she was relieved when it came time to leave.

Ginny returned with them to Harry's flat, intent upon ensuring that everything was properly situated to make Liz comfortable. Eventually, after much fusing on Ginny's part, appreciative frustration on Liz's, and doting pleasure on Harry's, the two supposed relatives found themselves alone, somewhat uneasy in their sudden solitude. Settling on her newfound favorite position on his couch, she considered the hero of the wizarding world carefully.

"You know, I've known about all of this for months now, but…it's strange, isn't it?"

Choking out a laugh, Harry slumped down beside her. "Strange does not even begin to describe it. It really is Sirius all over again, but different. Sirius was family, true, but you – you're blood. You're the same as the Dursleys, but _loads_ better. I…honestly don't know what to make of it."

Grinning shyly, Liz nodded in understanding. "I feel the same. I'd finally grown used to being alone, and suddenly Hermione's letters arrived. I was reluctant to hope, for obvious reasons."

Raising a brow, he replied, "Really? What's wrong with hoping?"

"Hope builds expectations; expectations bolster us without proof. Assumptions are made and, when they're inevitably broken, we're left with nothing but disappointment. We're better off remaining realistic and ending up pleasantly surprised when everything turns out right."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," he mused. "Though I can't say that I agree. Hope can be an invaluable companion, particularly when you have little else. Better to have hope than to give up, right?"

Liz shot the wizard beside her an incredulous look, the ghost of a smile at her lips. "You are remarkable, Harry Potter. Remarkable. If I gain nothing else from all of this, at least I know I'll have an insightful new friend."

Barking a laugh, Harry agreed. "We should get to bed – we've got a lot to do tomorrow."

Liz followed as he led her to her room, calling out to him in curiosity. "Why? Where are we going tomorrow? And don't you have a job to go to, sir?"

"DeMeyers' given me the time off indefinitely, until all of this is sorted out. You want proof, don't you? We're going to find it – and Hogwarts is our best option."

"We're going to Hogwarts?" Liz gasped out, an expression of child-like enthusiasm on her face. "Seriously?"

Laughing, he gestured her to bed. "Yeah, seriously. We leave in the morning. Rest up – we've a meeting with the headmistress to get some answers."

"It's even better than I imagined…"

Liz and Harry stood before the entrance of Hogwarts, the wizard watching as his companion stood transfixed in awe. He understood the feeling; he'd felt much the same way each year he attended, the school never losing the wonder and escape from the world of living with the Dursleys it promised him. Not even the battle could alter his view – Hogwarts would always be his first home, and even visiting now, years later, he felt a wave of gratitude for the castle flooding through him. He allowed Liz a few more moments of gawking before leading her inside.

It took quite a few wizards and more than a handful of months to restore the school after the war, but it appeared much the same as it always had. There would always be marks retelling the story, places where the dark magic made an irreparable blemish, but these were the building's battle scars, the signs of what it fought against and triumphantly destroyed. They were something to take pride in, to boast of grandly, yet the steadfast fixture merely accepted them as inevitable and continued on with its purpose.

From the sounds coming from the Great Hall, Harry assumed that most of the school was still at breakfast. About to steer Liz into the room, he was interrupted by the booming yell of a woman.

"Grandits! Mahan! Isn't it a little early for your shenanigans to begin?"

The two turned to a trio of people: a short yet imposing middle-aged witch and a pair of boys, most likely in their third year. The boys smirked at one another before dashing off, leaving the witch to rid the corridor of the rather impressive succession of dung bombs awaiting release the moment anyone stepped out of the Great Hall. Giving a cry of, "Fifty points from Hufflepuff, gentlemen, and a week's detention each!" the witch banished the mess with a sigh before noticing her onlookers. She approached them, muttering as she did.

"Still having trouble with those blokes, Professor?" Harry asked when she reached them, sporting a broad grin. The professor let out a grunt in response.

"Aye, Mr. Potter – whoever claimed that Hufflepuffs aren't any bother obviously doesn't know any personally. They're quiet, but damn tricky." Taking in Liz, she extended a plump hand. "Ellie Gallogly, professor of Muggle Studies. What brings you to Hogwarts this time, Harry?"

Glancing briefly at Liz, he replied, "We've a meeting with McGonagall. There's some important business we need to discuss."

"Minerva's still in her office, the last I knew – the password's the same as last you visited. If you've a chance, stop by my office before you're off; I've a few new trinkets Arthur Weasley might like, if you don't mind becoming my delivery owl once again." With a nod and a wave, the witch retreated to the Great Hall, intent upon her meal.

Harry led an awestruck Liz through Hogwarts' twisting passageways, eventually reaching the headmistress' office. Having recited the password and reaching the closed door at the top of the stairs, Harry knocked, suddenly anxious about the reason why they had come. At McGonagall's faint, "Come in," Harry pushed through and brought Liz before his former professor.

McGonagall looked much as she did when Harry was a student: stern, hair pulled back in a tight bun, eyes studying them over her spectacles. The only sign of change showed in the additional, wearied lines etched near her eyes and mouth, consequences from the years fighting against the darkness. A spark of interest crossed her features when she spotted Liz, and she motioned them to a pair of chairs before her desk.

"I must admit to feeling a bit of surprise and more than my appropriate share of curiosity in regard to your owl last evening, Potter," she began as she set aside her quill. "May I ask who this young woman is?"

"Professor, this is Elizabeth Hogan," Harry introduced, choosing to use her American name until he could explain further. "Liz, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall."

As they shook hands, Liz fairly beamed in excitement. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Headmistress. I've heard so many amazing things about you."

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up at her accent. "An American, are you? This meeting becomes increasingly more puzzling by the moment." She paused, considering something briefly. "Elizabeth Hogan…you wouldn't happen to be the young woman who just received her mastery in Potions, would you?"

"I am," Liz affirmed, slightly astounded that the older witch had heard of her. McGonagall chuckled as she shuffled the parchments before her.

"You'll have to meet Maxwell Stanton, our current Potions professor. Though, based upon his work over the last year, I doubt he shall remain for long. Perhaps _you _might teach him something of his subject matter so that he, in turn, can teach his students."

At her claims, the younger witch frowned, her brows knit. "That's a dangerous subject for incompetence. Mixing potions is a serious matter, to be undertaken with the utmost care and consideration. More than just a failing grade is at risk in such an environment."

"You and Snape would have gotten on wonderfully," Harry interjected, shaking his head. "'I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.' The man was brilliant, and undoubtedly a hero, but honestly –"

"Do you realize how often you could have _died_ in that class, Harry?" she countered, her voice furious. "All it takes is one mistake – the wrong ingredient, a turn too few, improper cutting or measuring – and you could be poisoned, cursed, or facing a disastrous explosion. Potions masters are strict because they have to be, not from choice."

"As enlightening a conversation this is, I suspect that it is not the reason for your call," the headmistress mused, a faint smile at her mouth. Harry and Liz shot each other a nervous glance as Harry responded.

"Er…no, Professor. It's a bit hard to explain…" Haltingly, Harry gave an account of events leading up to their visit, Liz interjecting when necessary. McGonagall remained stoic throughout, content to simply listen until they finished. As they sat awkwardly before her, she nodded once and rose to her feet.

"You are both adults, and this is hardly a topic to dance about even if you weren't. I did know about this spell of Albus', though only vaguely, no more than was allowed to Arthur and Molly, it seems. It was developed to act similarly to the Fidelius Charm, from what I can deduce, although it obviously encompasses so much more than a single being keeping a secret. There are ways for us to prove who you are regardless of the limitations, of course – even Muggles possess DNA testing, as you both are certainly aware. If that is what you came in search of, I am more than happy to do what I can to assist. If more knowledge of this spell, I am afraid you shall have to look elsewhere."

The two watched one another, each portraying an equally downcast expression. "Obviously, finding out if we're correct is a focus," Liz said slowly, turning back to McGonagall. "And if there isn't anything more you can tell us, we understand. But personally, I think we need to learn more. Without understanding what Dumbledore did, we have little hope of breaking the spell, and breaking it will be the best possible proof we can provide for the wizarding community at large." She paused, biting her lip slightly. "I, ah…also was hoping to learn what happened to my parents. I've no reason to believe there are any more answers here than there were at home, but it's worth a shot."

"I'll do everything in my power to lend my aid, Miss Hogan," McGonagall said smoothly as she motioned for them to follow her. "Come, let's find Poppy. She'll be able to perform the proper spells to discover if you're really a Potter."

Harry paced the hospital wing, unable to appreciate the fact that he was visiting it by choice for a change. Liz sat nearby, looking out one of the massive windows along the wall, her foot jiggling nervously over her crossed knee. Madam Pomfrey worked behind her closed office door, carefully studying the conjured images that resulted from her genetic spell. After seeing them to the mostly vacant hospital, McGonagall returned to her own office, insisting that once they were finished, Harry ought to show Liz the rest of the school. He'd nodded absentmindedly as Madam Pomfrey ushered them inside, pulling out her wand and gesturing at the two of them. Instantly, a pair of twirling figures, one green and the other deep silver, drifted from Harry and Liz's skins to float before the mediwitch. Indicating that they should wait outside, she guided the pair of double helixes inside, muttering to herself as she did. She had been gone for an hour before another sound came from the office.

Liz leapt to her feet as the door opened, bringing a beaming Madam Pomfrey back into the room at large. Harry came to Liz's side, his mouth a tight, thin line.

"Congratulations," she said, her gaze darting between the two. "We have a Potter."

Harry let out an incredulous laugh as Liz fell back into her seat. He bent toward her, concerned, and watched her run a shaking hand over her face. Neither spoke for a moment, simply staring at one another, before a small smile cracked her face.

"Potter…we're _related_," she breathed almost silently. She shook her head slowly before leaping for him, pulling him into a fierce hug. "_I'm not alone!_"


	5. Chapter 5

**To make up for the fact that I completely ignored this story for no apparent reason for a time, I decided to post chapter five, a mere day after chapter four's release. We've got some new characters as well as a few old ones, which was all kinds of fun. A bit of a short one here, I admit, but we're getting into a thicker bit of plot now that we know Liz and Harry are actually related. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

Chapter Five – Looking for More

Harry, with renewed enthusiasm about life in general, took Liz about the school, introducing her to anyone he knew as they met. She insisted on visiting the dungeons, determined to see the Potions lab and meet the professor McGonagall spoke of. Stanton seemed a decent enough man, slightly tentative and awestruck at meeting not only the famous Harry Potter but Elizabeth Hogan as well. They only excused themselves when a curious and whispering class of fourth years began to trickle in for their lesson not long after they arrived. Eventually they made their way to Hagrid's hut to allow Harry the opportunity to share his news.

As Fang's booming barks responded immediately to their knock, the man they sought pulled open the door, attempting to push the beast away while beaming down at the pair. "Harry!" he cried, ushering them inside and toward his only table. "Din't expect ta see ya at Hogwarts today! And who's this lass?"

"Hagrid, I want to introduce you to my cousin, Elizabeth Potter." At his gaping, completely baffled expression, Harry once again rattled off the story, with more vigor and confidence than before. The broad smile that had seemed permanently fixed to his face wavered, however, as Hagrid remained incredulous.

"What're ya goin' on abou', Harry?" he asked, concerned etched in his features. "Yer dad never had a brother."

"But…Hagrid…we've proof! Madam Pomfrey did the genetic spell…we were both there! Liz and I are related!"

Patting him on the shoulder reassuringly, Hagrid smiled grimly. "Perhaps it's time ya headed home, there, Harry. Ya shouldn't be worrin' yerself like this. Have ya bin workin' too hard, mayhaps?"

Quickly realizing the futility of their visit, Liz rose to her feet, pulling Harry along with her. "I'll take care of him, Hagrid, don't worry about it. We'll, ah, come back some other time?"

Hagrid nodded, giving Harry a final smile of pity as they saw themselves out. Harry was silent for most of their return trip to the main school, Liz watching him worriedly.

"What the hell was _that_?" he finally demanded, hardly noticing as they reentered the castle.

"I think we may have just learned more about the spell, actually," Liz replied casually, meandering the corridors while Harry mused. "So far everyone we've talked to knew of the spell – McGonagall, Kingsley, even Madam Pomfrey, apparently – or weren't alive when it was cast. I guess it didn't just hide us; it wiped us completely from their memories."

"Harry! What brings you to Hogwarts?" Their discussion came to a halt by the arrival of a young man slightly older than the two relatives. His short chestnut hair curled absentmindedly about his round face as he trotted toward them, bright blue eyes beaming. Harry returned the grin as the two excitedly shook hands.

"Jakob! I didn't even think to come find you! How are classes going?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a small grimace. "Ah, decent enough, I suppose. Easier than last year, certainly. I actually believe most of them hold a chance of passing." While Harry roared with laughter, the man turned his gaze to Liz. "You haven't introduced me to your charming companion, Potter. Your manners are slipping in your old age."

Harry appeared unfazed by the teasing he just received. "Liz, Jakob Kroon, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Jake, Liz, my…well…it's all rather complicated. Significantly more complicated than we previously thought, in fact."

Lifting her hand to shake yet another new acquaintance's, Liz rolled her eyes in Harry's direction. "Know simply that we've suddenly found ourselves related. A pleasure, Professor."

"Jakob, please," he insisted, quirking a thick eyebrow. "And the feeling's mutual." Releasing her hand, he crossed his arms, mischievously glancing between the two. "This tale sounds promising. I find myself exceptionally curious to discover how it all turns out."

"You're certainly not the only one," she replied with a sigh. Automatically, as if to relay her nervousness, her fingers flew to the copper ring on her thumb. Deciding to notice it for the first time, Harry studied the accessory while his companions talked, suddenly curious as to where it came from. It could almost be a wedding band, the metal smooth and simplistic. It looked far too large for her thin fingers, nearly taking over her thumb with its thickness. As it spun, he almost thought he noticed a subtle spark of magic jolt along the ring's edge, but before he could consider it further, Liz drew away his attention. "What are we doing next, Harry?"

"Our best option will be to head to the Ministry and see what we can find," he replied distractedly, brows furrowed as he attempted to regain comprehension of the flow of conversation. "I think I know someone who'd be willing to help, as long as we ask nicely. We should leave immediately."

Jakob seemed reluctant to see them go. "Well, I wish you luck on your journey. Hopefully you find the answers you seek." Sending them a final grin, he continued down the corridor, readjusting the satchel hanging over his shoulder. Liz watched him go, an intrigued expression on her face.

"Come on," Harry muttered, guiding her back out the enormous front doors. "I'll send McGonagall an owl from the Ministry explaining everything. If we hurry, we should arrive just as he comes back from lunch. Maybe that will put him in a more pleasant mood."

The pair remained mostly silent as they made their way to the Ministry. Liz was content to simply observe, enjoying the rush and sound of magical folk darting through security checkpoints or racing to catch a lift. Not surprisingly, Harry brought her back to the Auror headquarters, guiding her to a section of the department she wasn't familiar with. They approached a ghosted over glass door proclaiming INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT HEAD, AUROR SUBDIVISION and Harry hastily knocked. After hearing a muffled call from within, he opened the door, ushering Liz ahead of him.

Inside sat an exceptionally blonde-haired man, a tall stack of books leaning precariously on each side of him. His gray eyes, slightly lighter than hers, darted disinterestedly across a page as a quill scribbled notes behind him. Glancing up to take in his visitors, his jaw clenched.

"Potter," he growled, raising a hand to flick irritatingly at the quill. It shivered slightly and fell, landing in his palm as he clenched it into a fist. He glared daggers at the pair of them.

"Malfoy," Harry replied testily, nodding at the man formally. He rested a hand on Liz's shoulder and guided her forward. "We've come in search of help."

Raising his delicate brows, the man shifted his hard gaze to Liz to consider her. She met the look solidly, refusing to be bullied into submission with something as trivial as a glance. They studied one another, each challenging the other to make the first move, until he motioned for them to sit. As they did, he called back out to the corridor. "Collins!"

A petite, black haired head poked instantly into the doorway, her startled hazel eyes darting about the room. "Yes sir?"

"I am not to be disturbed until further notice. Owl Mother to inform her that there has been a change of plans. And make sure that Huegel's report is on my desk by tomorrow morning!"

"Yes sir," she replied, ignoring his harsh tone. As she closed the office door behind her, the man returned his attention to his guests.

"What makes you think I'll want to help _you_, Potter?" he asked, but his voice lost its fierce edge in favor of curiosity. Once again he looked Liz over, the hint of a smile at his lips. "Don't tell me you've gone and done something foolish and potentially scandalous?"

Liz's eyes narrowed at the assumption. "I can't say that I appreciate the insinuation behind your words, Mr. Malfoy. I hardly think it's proper manners when you're dealing with a complete stranger."

"An American. The plot thickens." Smirking now, he turned to Harry. "What is this about?"

Harry told the tale once again, his voice exasperated at the constant repetition. Liz remained silent throughout, preferring to study the stoic face of the department head as he listened. When Harry concluded, Malfoy clasped his hands together atop the desk.

"And I suppose you seek my assistance in researching this…unknown spell," he stated, refusing to meet Liz's eyes. As Harry nodded, the man sighed, rubbing his temple lightly before speaking again. "It would be difficult and I cannot guarantee anything – we can't even know for certain if it was a spell he created or discovered. This _is _Dumbledore, after all, and for all his eccentricities, the man was brilliant. We'd be more likely to waste our time than actually discover anything of use."

"We have to try," Liz interjected, finally regaining his attention. "Without breaking it, or at least revealing it, we might as well not be related at all. Every spell has a counter spell, and Albus Dumbledore would not have left us with no way of breaking it. I'm sure of it."

Malfoy considered her, his smirk almost transformed into a genuine grin. "Look at that, Potter – perhaps you really are related. She certainly has the family's determination."

"Wow, Malfoy…that was almost a compliment," Harry replied, his eyes dancing. Malfoy responded with a groan.

"Don't get used to it, hero boy. Very well, I shall assist. But only because I find this all so dreadfully fascinating."

Liz nodded her reluctant appreciation. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

Shooting her the shadow of a smile, he rose to his feet. "It's Draco, if you please. I try not to remind others of my unfortunate heritage."

She attempted to cover her mirth. "Ah…right. Draco." She was only slightly successful, as evidenced by Harry's laugh and Draco's eye roll.

"Yes, Draco. Unfortunate heritage, remember." He guided them back down the corridor toward a large door marked STORAGE. After opening it and pointing them inside, he began to explain. "The Investigation Department contains the most extensive collection of worldwide wizarding history to be found anywhere. Every legal, and quite a few illegal, spells, curses, potions, and artifacts are recorded in some form here. If we're going to find anything of worth, our best chance lays beyond this entrance." Before them stood a long, dimly lit corridor leading to a second blockaded doorway. As they reached it, Draco rotated toward the two of them, a highly serious expression on his face. "If either of you are to enter, you will be required to take an Unbreakable Vow that you will not reveal any information you learn beyond your initial purpose. We'll need to perform the spell before proceeding any further."

The cousins spared each other a single glance before nodding their agreement. The three knelt to the floor, Harry and Draco grasping each other's right forearms as Liz performed the spell. Once complete, they traded, Liz feeling a peculiar sensation rising up to her shoulders and chest when she grabbed hold of Draco. From the startled expression on his face, she suspected something similar had occurred for him as well. She hardly paid attention as the spell was cast, distracted in wondering where the tingle originated from, and finally regained a small amount of composure once their hands were released. Clenching her fist uncomfortably, she followed the men into the adjacent room. All thoughts of what occurred flew from her mind at the sight before her.

It was if they entered a giant library, but far larger than any she had seen before. It seemed to be the size of London itself, rows upon rows stretching further than the naked eye could spy. Liz's mouth gaped open as they walked through the endless stacks, their footsteps barely making a sound. Draco led them along, an amused expression on his face.

"Enjoying yourself?" he muttered quietly, but the sound still echoed radiantly in the vast space. Her silver eyes met his with a trace of wonder.

"This is…I don't even know what to say," she whispered, unable to look away from the knowledge before her for any extended span of time. "The sheer number of potions in this room…you have access to it whenever you please?"

"Being the department head is advantageous at times," he replied, finally finding the row he sought. "Here we are – detailed information on every known aspect of Albus Dumbledore's life, including spells he created and used. If information on it exists, it should be here."

The section was its own shelf, towering ten rows high and double in length. Harry and Liz studied it all reluctantly.

"That is a lot of books," Harry stated as Liz choked back a laugh. Draco sneered in response.

"Very astute, Potter. Shall we begin? The answer won't find itself."


	6. Chapter 6

**Yeah, I know. I take forever to update, considering the story is finished other than editing. Hopefully this extra long chapter will make up for it? I'm sorry, I love you all! And I'll keep this brief to illustrate my true apologies. Let me know what you think.**

Chapter Six – The Hard Part

"This. Is. Ridiculous." Harry sat at the desk they'd conjured in the research library, his face pressed into the grainy surface. "We've been at it for two months and I've learned more about Albus Dumbledore than I ever hoped to know, but absolutely _nothing _about what we're actually looking for. Honestly, how many spells did the bloke create?"

Pushing down her glasses to rub at her eyes, Liz sighed. "More than any single wizard should be allowed." She took a deep breath, giving herself a stern nod. "Okay. Let's start back at the beginning. Again."

Grimacing, Harry nodded slightly back at her. "Right. So. Mrs. Weasley let it slip to Hermione that Andrew Potter existed."

"After prodding them for a few weeks, she discovered that both the Weasleys could remember him and his wife Olivia, but not their child or the existence of any children, and that they vanished not long before your parents' deaths."

"She started researching, because she's Hermione Granger and that's what she does." His words were interrupted by a snort of amusement from Liz, but he ignored it. "She went to Hogwarts to consult with Dumbledore's portrait."

"He neither confirmed nor denied the theory's validity. Seriously, why did she even bother continuing at that point?"

Shrugging, Harry answered, "Again, it's Hermione Granger we're talking about. She's more determined than Hagrid attempting to convince anyone that blast-ended skrewts are perfectly harmless as long as you deal with them properly. Anyway, she was able to get her hands on a few old copies of the Prophet as well as some Hogwarts reports that vaguely mentioned an Andrew Potter and Olivia Page. It was enough information for her to contact you."

"She provided me with what she knew, which was sufficient to convince me to come and investigate myself. In the meantime, she attempted to find more information on the spell, but was only able to glean enough information to determine that it was a highly rare and supremely difficult spell, ensuring that only Dumbledore could and would have been able to perform it at the time."

Throwing his glasses down onto the table, Harry groaned. "And that's about as far as we've gotten. What are the chances we'll ever be able to best this, Liz?"

"We won't get anywhere with that kind of attitude. 'Hope can be an invaluable companion, particularly when you have little else' and all that, remember?" Pulling out her OWL, she checked the time. "We've been down here nearly eight hours. I think it's time we called it quits."

Harry rose to his feet with a groan, snatching back his spectacles and stretching his sore muscles. "Malfoy didn't need to bother with that bloody Unbreakable Vow – once this is all through, I'd rather just pretend I've never heard of this place to begin with."

They made their way to the exit slowly, Liz tugging the door closed behind them. Making their way to Draco's office, Harry excused himself, claiming he needed to speak with DeMeyers before he left. Realizing he simply did not wish to see his old nemesis again, Liz shrugged and continued on her way, knocking at the open door to the office before continuing.

Draco's head rose, his short blonde locks sticking up in various directions. There were dark circles below his expressive eyes, echoing her own tiredness and frustration. Surrounding him lay various books and scrolls, opened and marked with multicolored labels covered in hastily scribbled notes indicating their significance. He looked from her to his watch, letting out a low grunt.

"I had every intention of coming to help before the end of the day. Obviously that did not occur."

Liz shrugged again, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "It's fine. Technically our mission is not one you are being paid for; your real job should come first. It isn't as though we're getting anywhere anyway."

He sent her a small smile as he stood, stretching in a similar manner to Harry. She chose not to remark on the similarity, knowing it would greatly displease the two of them. Recalling their history, she supposed she could understand why. "You're both headed out, then?"

"Yes. Harry and Ginny have plans, and I'm on my way to George's shop. He needs some help on a potion for a new product and I promised to see what I could do."

Nodding, he reached for his emerald cloak, draping it elegantly over his arm. With a flick of his wand, the desk straightened itself, securing all of the notes in their proper positions. Grasping her elbow, he led Liz from the room before locking and warding it. They were on their way to the lifts before either spoke again.

"You don't intend to stop searching until you find an answer, do you?" he asked as they rounded a corner, their destination in sight. She gave him a mischievous half grin.

"We've known each other long enough for you to determine the answer to that, haven't we, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, enjoying teasing him. He chuckled, a smirk at his lips.

"Ruddy Potters and their Gryffindor determination…can't even escape it when they didn't go to Hogwarts," he muttered, making Liz laugh. They were interrupted by the arrival of a quizzical Harry.

"All set, Liz – what were you two laughing about?"

At Harry's entrance, Draco's face turned stoic as he excused himself. He made for the lifts, sending them a curt nod as he retreated. Liz crossed her arms and sighed, exasperated at their inability to tolerate the other's presence. "It was nothing…just tarnishing the Potter name. Come on, we've places to be."

Protesting loudly, Harry felt himself dragged toward the lifts and home, attempting to pry further answers from his distracted cousin.

Later that evening, Liz perched on a stool at the counter of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, gasping in her attempts to catch her breath. The surviving twin's storytelling ability was outstanding, and she always enjoyed hearing tales of their time at Hogwarts; it nearly made up for the fact that she missed out on all of it. Once she had finished with his potion (which was a relatively simple fix – she suspected he'd fouled it up as an excuse to get her to the shop), they transitioned to their usual seats at the counter, passing the time until he could close up and enjoying one another's company. It had become their weekly tradition since she arrived.

"The look on Umbridge's face…I wish I'd had a camera," George continued, laughing nearly as hard as Liz. "Then Peeves just topped it off…strangely enough, I miss that bloody poltergeist."

"He sounds like a pain in the ass," Liz chortled, wiping the tears from her eyes before giving him a serious once-over. "A lot like you, actually."

Attempting to seem affronted, George brought a hand to his heart. "Why, Miss Potter. That may be the most insulting thing I've ever heard you say."

She paused at the use of her true name, a satisfied look on her face. "It's strange, hearing you call me Potter. It feels both right and wrong, in some way." Since she and Harry told the Weasleys of Madam Pomfrey's results, the entire family had taken to calling her by it, the act a lot more casual and easy to accomplish than she ever expected. It pleased her to hear it, but still didn't sound entirely correct.

He shrugged, reaching for the glass of water before him. "I suppose it is. I mean, in America, you'll always be Hogan – you grew up with it, made your mark with that name. You won't be able to escape it simply from the fact that you're famous in your own right over there. But once the truth's out here, you'll become a Potter properly. Both names eventually will apply."

"You mean _if _the truth comes out," she replied with a sigh, taking a sip from her own glass. "Frankly, I'm not sure if we'll ever find an answer. At least Draco's found out about my parents."

Not long after she first met the wizard, she informed him of the second half of her plan. He readily took up the case and, with time, was able to pan out the details. It seemed that a pair of Death Eaters, while on a mission for their master, stumbled upon the couple while they were away. Assuming the English couple was the target they sought, they tortured them for information, desperate to please the Dark Lord. When the Hogans could not provide anything useful, they finished them off, Vanishing the bodies to remove the evidence of their foolishness. It had been difficult to hear, even so many years later, but she was sincerely grateful to have the truth. At least one of her central missions had been a success.

Grasping her shoulder affectionately for a moment, George replied, "I wouldn't worry; you're sure to find _something_. Though I hate to admit it, Draco's damn good at his job, and you or Harry aren't likely to stop searching any time soon. Just give it time."

She sighed once more, but before she could speak, the faint sound of the front door's bell alerting them of a customer brought her to a stop. The wizard who stood at the entrance froze her insides in shock. The long frame was thin, leading up to dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail along his neck. The faint outline of his scraggly beard and moustache could be seen even from their distance, and when her eyes met the familiar brown ones, she jolted to her feet in astonishment.

"_Alex_?" she asked incredulously, hardly comprehending the sight. He placed his hands in the pockets of his Muggle jacket, grinning at her sheepishly. With a yelp of delight, she launched herself over the counter, pulling her friend into a massive hug. "What are you doing here? _How_ did you get here? Wait a minute…" A rush of fear ran through her as she thought of the shop she'd barely even considered since arriving. "What's happened? What's wrong? I haven't called in so long – "

"Give me a chance to get a word in, Lizzie!" he replied with a laugh, hugging her just as hard. "Don't worry, the shop's perfectly fine. I have DeAngelis and Gorton taking care of it together. They'll be all right for the few days I'm gone, don't worry." He pulled her away and noticed George, his face reddening slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"What are you…oh!" Turning, she looked back at the somewhat dumbfounded Weasley. "I'm sorry, let me introduce you. George, this is my assistant and friend, Alex Faulkner. Alex, this is George Weasley." Shaking hands, the two said their hellos. Once they were finished, Liz turned back to her friend. "I just can't believe it. Why are you here, Al? What's going on?"

"You said it yourself – you haven't called in quite some time. I was worried. We didn't have any idea how long you'd be gone, after all."

"So you just up and decided to pop over to check in on me?" she prodded with a smile. When his only response was to smirk and shrug, she shook her head slowly. "You're really something, Alex, did you know? I've missed your randomness."

"It sounds as if you two have some catching up to do," George interjected, his voice strangely tense. He attempted to smile but only managed a half-hearted grimace. "If you don't mind, I think I'll just close things up here. It's not as though we've been terribly busy in the last hour."

Shooting him an apologetic glance, Liz grabbed Alex's arm to lead him out. "Can we finish our discussion some other time, George? I hate to just leave you like this…"

Brushing her off gruffly, he motioned them away. "Don't worry about it, Potter. Go enjoy yourself."

She sent him a final concerned look before she and Alex made their way out. The two walked side by side down the darkened street, Alex watching her with a concerned expression.

"It's official, then?" he began, attempting to pull her from her reverie. "You're actually a Potter?"

Shaking off her contemplation, she grinned broadly. "I am. Oh Alex, it was _fantastic _– we went to Hogwarts and met McGonagall, and the mediwitch performed the spell – it's all true. We just need a way to prove it."

"What do you mean?"

She hastily explained the circumstances and what they had been researching over the last months. As she concluded, he whistled lightly.

"I can understand why you haven't called…do you even have a chance to breathe?" She laughed quietly in response. After a slightly uncomfortable silence, he started again. "So what does this mean? You'll just stay here until you succeed and then…come home? Find a job here? Go back and forth?"

She huffed out a breath of air and shrugged. "As of right now? I don't know. I miss the shop, and you, and spending my time making potions instead of constantly researching…but I love it here too. I have family again. Harry's already lost so much; I'm not sure what would happen if he lost me too."

"But he's got to know you have a _life_, Lizzie," Alex countered. "One beyond him and all of this. I mean, you were successful at home, and it's where you were raised. Your parents may have been from here, but you're from the States…right?" His tone turned slightly frenzied as he considered the possibilities of his uncertainty.

She cringed as she answered. "Ah, about that…we're actually not sure. As we've gone through the documents, it's becoming increasingly more evident that my mom gave birth here, right before we left. We think the spell might not have worked properly while she was pregnant; and therefore Dumbledore kept them hidden until I was born in order to place it properly. I might not even be American at all."

"You were raised in the US, Lizzie – that makes you an American in my book. And you're willing to just give everything from there up because of all this? Your entire life? There are people back home who love you, who miss you. You're just going to come here and completely forget them?"

"Of course not! It's just so complicated, and there's still so much to uncover…" Groaning, she glanced at her OWL. "Look, can we just…talk about this tomorrow? It's getting late and we've got researching to do – "

"Right," he said curtly, his mouth a thin line. "Of course. See you tomorrow, then." He turned and began walking in the opposite direction, ignoring her calls. Soon he was completely out of sight, leaving Liz with a tight feeling of dread in her chest.

Gradually, she pulled herself together enough to Apparate to Harry's flat. She hoped he and Ginny weren't back from their date yet as she turned the key and entered. Finding it blissfully empty, she plopped down onto the couch to wait and reflect.

Less than an hour later, Harry returned, humming softly to himself as he reset the wards. He spun about and noticed Liz, instantly pausing his humming. A grim expression crossed his face as he took in her appearance.

"Who do I have to make disappear?" he asked simply. With a strangled laugh, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing stronger than she had since her parents died.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, this chapter. We're getting very close to the end (there's only one chapter left - I know, I'm surprised too) and this is quite possibly the most significant chapter yet. I have edited it five times now and STILL don't feel pleased with it. Therefore, helpful suggestions are particularly encouraged. On a less ominous note, I dedicate chapter seven to my friend Jori. She has been incredibly helpful with the naming of the spell discussed later on - I sought her out with help with Latin and she gave me multiple awesome possibilities. Thanks friend! :)**

**P.S. The ending. Yeah, I know, I am a terrible, _terrible _person by leaving you with a cliffhanger. Just keep in mind that I am a Slythinclaw, so this sort of thing is a fairly common occurrence. XD**

**Note - Hey, this was just a tiny bit of editing. I plan on getting the final chapter (!) up by the end of the day, and have been meaning to fix things suggested from the lovely Miss Hogan (yes, she's a real person. Many of the names here are 'borrowed' from real friends of mine.) but haven't been able to due to computer issues. It would appear that everything is more adequate now, so on with the show!**

Chapter Seven – Truth Will Out

Liz did not speak with George or Alex the next day. Finding it easier to simply avoid the problem altogether, she instead dedicated herself to the search, spending nearly every waking second that morning locked away in the increasingly more familiar Ministry library.

The three usual companions sat together in peaceable silence, each surrounded by his or her own stack of tomes. No matter how much she forced herself, however, Liz could not give it her proper attention. Her focus continued to dart back to the various conversations from the night before, replaying constantly and keeping her from being of any use. After Harry had returned, and once she had calmed down enough to stop sobbing and release her cousin, he set her down on the couch and begged for an explanation. Liz haltingly gave it, unnaturally anxious for his response once she was through.

He had remained considerate and contemplative throughout her narrative. "Honestly, it's not anything I had thought much about," he finally stated slowly, grasping his hands uneasily. "Obviously I would never want you to give up your shop – I know how much work and love you've put into it and your enthusiasm for potions is clear – but I'm selfish enough to want to keep you around. I'm confident that we can find ways to communicate often enough if one of us isn't close by. In the end, I think it's really a choice of what _you'd_ rather do. It's your life, Liz; it's up to you to decide it."

The man truly was brilliant when he wasn't trying too hard to fit into the mold the world attempted to create for him. His words had been reassuring simply because he understood and willingly compromised. He wanted a further relationship with her, just as she wanted with him, and therefore would do what he could to enable it. She promised to consider her answer thoroughly before speaking to anyone, but there really wasn't anything for her to reflect on. She loved it in England; for the first time, she felt right, though she was loathe to admit to such a cliché revelation. It had been so easy, so smooth to adjust to this country, when it felt more of home than America ever had. These feelings genuinely told her the truth of her heritage – this feeling of peace, of _rightness_, that came with being here, with these people. The real question, however, would be whether she'd act on her instincts or do what was expected. Her personality led her to one choice, while her natural need to please everyone led her to the other. The entire matter left her stressed and confused, and until the spell was broken, she decided she'd rather pretend none of it existed.

Draco, meanwhile, joined the cousins not long after they arrived at the library. Since it was a Saturday, he lacked anything better to do with his free time and felt better about researching amongst the stacks of novels than lounging about alone with nothing to amuse him but his thoughts. He discovered that he genuinely liked Liz, far more than he ever would her cousin, and wished to help her in her quest, due to both this revelation and the challenge the task presented. He was not one to allow such a promising opportunity to go to waste and therefore dove into it enthusiastically.

As she sat feigning reading, she once again began to absentmindedly twirl her copper ring, the motion grabbing Harry's attention. Recalling the questions he once had about it, he cleared his throat to interrupt the silence quietly. Once he had both Liz and Draco's attentions, he nodded toward her hand.

"What's the story with that ring, Liz?" he asked, a finger holding the place of his book. Her startled silver eyes darted from the band to Harry, as if unsure how to answer. Gradually, she gave it a final twist and spoke.

"It…matches my parents' wedding bands," she explained, confirming Harry's initial speculation. "They gave it to me long before I could wear it. I used to keep it on a chain around my neck, and I never take it off. In fact, I don't think I've ever been without it since the day they gave it to me."

"Is it magic?" Draco asked, but Liz shook her head in the negative.

"It's never shown any magical qualities before – "

"Yes it has," Harry interrupted, to his companions' astonishment. "I saw it, the day we went to meet with McGonagall. You were toying with it, as usual when you're thinking too hard about something, while you talked to Jakob, and I noticed it…a line of magic, running right along the ring's edge. You probably wouldn't even realize if it's happened before, since you've always got it on."

"When we took the Vow," she muttered, staring hard down at the ring. "Draco, do you remember? That shock? It started in my hand, my _right _hand, where I wear the ring. Is it possible…?"

"Only one way to find out," Draco replied as he rose to his feet, and the Potters rushed from the room, close behind the blonde. Following Draco's lead, they made their way to an office similar to his own, the words "Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects" stenciled across every available surface. Headed by the patriarch of the Weasley clan, they were unsurprised to see him sitting casually behind the desk on his day off, scribbling on a piece of parchment, when they entered. Grabbing Liz's wrist unceremoniously, Draco thrust it into the surprised man's face, gesturing vaguely at the ring. "We have reason to suspect that this item, formerly considered dormant, is in fact magical. What can we do to prove it?"

Eyes darting between the two Potters, Mr. Weasley took Liz's hand, carefully sliding the ring from her finger. As soon as it left her skin, a dull humming appeared to emanate from it, echoing across the four walls. Her head began to ache slightly more the longer Mr. Weasley examined it, until eventually she clutched the edge of the desk in pain, attempting to remain upright and unconcerned. Harry reached for her just as her arms began to shake and vision went fuzzy, and she faintly heard the sound of Draco shouting. Something was pushed back into her hand and instantly the sensations began to fade. She sat in a wooden chair shivering slightly, clutching the hand that wore the ring. The three men looked on, an equally worrying expression on each of their faces. Once she began to feel well again, she smiled up at them slowly.

"Merlin's beard, that was terrifying," Harry managed, sinking into the seat at her side. Draco rested against the desk, only slightly more composed than his former classmate. Mr. Weasley frowned, concern replacing the worry.

"Where did you get that ring, Liz?" he demanded, gaze fixed on her face. Harry explained the story while Draco summoned a glass of water, kneeling before her as she drank. She nodded gratefully when he took it back.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly, resting a hand on her knee and giving it a faint squeeze. She took a shaky breath and shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Strange. That was the most bizarre sensation…who could've cursed my ring? I've never been separated from it before."

A slight dawning of comprehension crossed his handsome features, causing him to bolt to his feet. "I think I know," he declared to the room in general, startling Harry and Mr. Weasley, and soon he dashed off in the direction of his office. Liz made to stand and follow, but Mr. Weasley surged forward to halt her. Slowly and defiantly, she wobbled to her feet, elbow braced in Harry's grasp. She sent Mr. Weasley a sympathetic glance, but refused to be stopped. If Draco knew something she didn't, she would find out more, and no cursed ring's side effects would stop her.

They steadily returned to Draco's office, Harry insisting that she take her time. When Draco looked up from the books he shuffled through, he frowned, coming to help guide her to a chair. Shaking his head, he continued his search. "Damn bloody determined American _woman_," he spat out, but Liz ignored him in favor of discovering what he sought. "It's a spell I uncovered recently for another case. It had circumstances similar to yours – individuals who had gone missing who were suddenly and mysteriously found, a magical object that could not be removed from the victim's possession – and I wondered if perhaps it contains the information we need to break this." He continued his search until he let out a small exclamation of success. Returning to sit back in his chair, he began to read his discovery aloud.

"'_Abscondo Revocare_, or Removal Charm, is a highly secretive spell, to be used only under the most dire of circumstances by exceptionally skills witches and wizards. Only one known successful case of it being cast has been recorded. Lord Edmund Foley, in his attempts to escape persecution after a long string of robberies that eventually led to murder, had the spell placed upon him by his bodyguard and former dueling champion, Edgar King, in 1463. Knowledge of him and his location all but vanished until, nearly eighty years later, he revealed himself in order to claim a long-silenced birthright. Rather than receiving what he believed he deserved, the 108-year-old wizard was locked away in his own personal detention unit until his death three years later. While it is unknown exactly how the spell was broken, Foley indicated in one of his less lucid ravings that the destruction of a certain porcelain chamber pot released him from his captivity. Additionally, he was known, in his more crazed moments, to cry out for said pot, insisting that he was 'burning from within' without the object in his grasp. It has since been deduced that much of _Abscondo Revocare_'s power was contained within the object, though how or why it occurred is still unexplained.'"

The room fell silent as Draco's voice faded, each taking in the words he read. Liz glared down at the ring, willing it to provide the necessary information for confirmation. Without a word, Draco rose to seize her hand, pulling it close to study the metal carefully. Slowly, he ran a finger along its edge, sending a light spark up her arm. His eyebrows rose at her startled expression, but he continued his ministrations. He began to spin it, much as she often did unconsciously, until they spotted it – the light of magic, just as Harry described, dancing its way across the flat edge. They continued their experiment, transfixed by the increasing speed and ferocity of the magic until a fiery sensation lunged forcefully up her body, causing her to cry out loudly. Draco instantly released the ring, grasping for her hand instead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing his thumb along her palm softly. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"Like flames," she muttered, fighting off a shiver. Their near matching eyes met, unwavering facing troubled. "We have to destroy it."

He rose abruptly, going back to his desk. "Out of the question. We do not know how it will affect you. We do not even know for sure if this is the proper spell."

"We can't risk it, Liz," Harry said suddenly, drawing their formerly focused attention to him. "All we've done is remove and touch it; what will happen if we do something more? It's not worth the possible rewards if you get hurt."

"We need to learn more before we go further," Draco insisted, tapping a finger on the wooden tabletop. "We have this much; surely we can discover the rest. We cannot do anything further until we know it will not harm you."

Shaking her head, she quickly drew her wand. "_Boys_, honestly," she muttered, and shot a spell at the ring. Before they had the chance to react, a faint balloon of light blue light blossomed from around her hand, quickly growing in size. As it increased, dark swirling clouds of various shapes jostled within, gradually forming disjointed images none of them recognized. Without warning, the balloon burst, showering them with a wave of unfamiliar images that grappled to escape the strict confines of the office. Finally, with the force of an explosion, they succeeded, leaving all three gasping for breath. The ring pulsed once, sending another powerful wave of fire through her skin. In the next moment, all went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, this is is, ladies and gentlemen - the final chapter. Well, the final chapter of this part of Liz's story. I'm so excited that this is all complete, because now I can concentrate more fully on the sequel, Seeking Hope. There are so many good things going on so far in that story, so I'm particularly anxious to get going. Hopefully it won't be too long until that comes about, but be on the lookout for it! Moving on to actually talking about this chapter...I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. The ending's a bit fuzzy and there are lose ends that aren't tied up, but that's what a sequel is for, am I right?! :D This chapter is extra long too, to make up for the last one's shortness. So, for the final time (for now!)...enjoy. :)**

Chapter Eight – The Choice

When Liz awoke, she was in an unfamiliar room on a rather uncomfortable bed. The wall to her left was made up entirely of an enormous window and accompanied window seat that bathed the room in a soft mid-morning glow. She blinked slightly at it, attempting to adjust her vision to the unexpectedly bright light. On the windowsill sat two forms, one on each side, their backs resting against the opposite walls as they slept. The blonde, along the farther side, awkwardly leaned with his head in the crook of his elbow. The brunette, directly beside her, was dangerously close to losing his glasses, which barely dangled from the tip of his nose. Neither man noticed that she had gained consciousness.

Only vaguely recalling what last had happened and how she may have come to be here, Liz looked down at her hand, certain that her ring held some significance in her attempts to understand. The keepsake was gone, leaving only a pewter colored shading indicating where it once sat. A surge of panic rushed through her at its loss, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of someone at her door.

Alex stood awkwardly in the entrance way, his face wracked in worry and fear. He immediately noticed she was awake and visibly eased, the tension falling from his shoulders as he rushed to her side.

"You're okay," he whispered, resting his forehead against the bed sheet by her wrist. "My God, that was terrifying. Don't _ever_ do that again, you hear?"

She reached over to toy familiarly with his ponytail, a faint upturn at her lips. "I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee anything. Potions mistress, after all."

He raised his head to shoot a glare at his incapacitated friend. "Not anymore. From now on, you're to be locked away in a padded room, unable to harm anyone, yourself especially. You give too many people minor heart attacks when something happens to you."

She laughed quietly, but the sound reached one of her two sleeping partners. Draco wearily lifted his lids, absentmindedly stretching and kicking Harry in the knee in the process. With a soft _oof_, the second man awoke, snatching to fix his spectacles and sending a growl to his sill mate. Draco smirked in response before his silvery eyes widened, finally realizing what woke him up and bolting to Liz's side.

"Liz," he murmured, copying Alex's motions to kneel opposite him. "Finally."

"How do you feel?" Harry asked, green eyes studying her intently for physical injury. She reached to grasp his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Exceptionally well looked after, actually," she laughed, bringing a grin to her cousin's face. "What happened? Where's my ring?"

Harry sat on the bed beside her, keeping a firm grip on her. "The simple answer is that you did something particularly stupid and ended up here for three days completely knocked out." Groaning, she shoved his arm, but his only response was to grin wider.

"What Potter is attempting to say and failing at miserably," Draco interjected, an eyebrow raised, "is that you attempted to destroy the ring and succeeded with somewhat…uncomfortable results."

A flash of memory came back to her, bringing images of blue light and piercing fire racing through her. She frowned, shaking her head until it sent a shot of pain radiating through her scull. Cringing, she remarked, "Believe me, I am fully aware of the remarkably foolish choice I made. The result is painfully apparent – literally. That still doesn't explain what happened to the ring."

"Well…it may have…kind of…melted into your skin?" Harry said questioningly, as if even he wasn't entirely sure what took place. Draco gave a great sigh as Liz glanced between them, completely baffled.

"Eloquent as always, Potter," he growled, shaking his head in irritation. When his attention returned to Liz, his expression softened greatly. "After the explosion, you gave a large twitch and fell to the floor. Before we could react, waves of power began to radiate from the ring, until…well, as he said, it melted into your skin. That mark is all that remains."

She considered the scar more closely, a slightly hollow feeling in her chest. "So it's just…gone? There's no way to get it back?" Draco shook his head in reply, his face pained. She frowned down at the offending hand, desperately fighting back tears. "It was all I had left of them…"

"Oh Lizzie," Alex sighed, speaking for the first time since their English cohorts awoke. Liz turned to him to take in his devastated appearance. "I'm so, so sorry." She reached for his offered hand, taking it gratefully in her own. It was more reassuring than she ever cared to admit, being surrounded by some of the most important figures in her life, loved and supported. She huffed out a breath and gave a sudden, determined nod.

"It doesn't matter," she declared, straightening herself slightly. "It's done, and there's little anyone can do about it now. More importantly, did it break the curse? If not, I am long overdue to feel like an even more complete idiot."

Harry and Draco gave each other a conspiratorial glance, almost convincing Liz that they could possibly be friends. Before anyone could answer, however, Alex's fist flew to his forehead, pounding himself lightly in irritation. "Oh! I almost forgot!" Turning toward the door, Alex flicked his wand, shooting it open. The small body that came darting in instantly searched the room, giving a small whimper as it took in the woman on the bed. With a squeal of delight, Liz reached out for the tiny beast.

"Puck! Alex, you're my favorite!" The Cavalier King Charles spaniel did his best to jump up on the large piece of furniture, his legs just barely short enough to allow him the ability. Chuckling lightly, Alex lifted him to his owner's side, where she instantly snuggled her familiar close. The dog's tongue lolled out the edge of his mouth excitedly as he nuzzled Liz right back.

"I planned to give him back to you the night I arrived, but…well, obviously that didn't work out," the man muttered, attempting and failing to hide his discomfort. "He was practically frantic without you. I don't think it ever occurred to him that you would go away, so far and for so long, without taking him with you. Why didn't you, by the way?"  
She sighed contentedly, unreasonably happy to have the fuzzy body in her arms. "I didn't think I'd be away this long. I'm so sorry, Puck; forgive me?"

The creature looked up at her seriously, as if pondering his response, before licking her once on the tip of her nose. She smiled down at him before burying her face in his fur once more. Her eyes shot up briefly to send Alex a grateful look.

He shrugged, replying, "He was driving me crazy anyway. I don't do well with dogs, if you remember. I'm much more of a cat person – they're significantly less…_needy_."

"A dog familiar," Draco grunted, somewhat disgruntled and pleased at the same time. "How utterly American."

"Ah, but a King Charles," Harry noted in reply, unable to keep the grin from his face. "Distinctly English. The ideal combination." The sound of someone clearing their throat brought all of their attentions back to the open door, where a Healer in atrociously lime green robes watched them. Taking in the scene before her, she gave a small smile.

"Ah, Miss Potter. I suspected you would be rejoining us soon." She bustled to Liz, shooing the men away so that she could perform a series of complex diagnostic spells. Nodding to herself as she studied the results, she returned her attention to the young witch. "Everything appears to be in order, though I'd still like to keep you around for observation a bit longer. Your case is unusual, making it a bit difficult to expect any possible side effects." Stealing a glance at Harry, she smirked. "Besides, it may be best to prepare you for what's awaiting you outside. The press is rather…enthusiastic to meet you." As she exited the room, Liz groaned once more.

"Hopefully _that _answered your question," Draco remarked, straightening his robes as he stood. "As much as I'd rather stay, I must check in at the office to ensure that Collins hasn't completely ruined the entire department in my absence. I'll return as soon as possible," he added in an undertone, gripping her shoulder once firmly. Liz responded with a grateful smile and shooed him away, watching as he left. Before the door had even shut behind him, George burst through it. He glanced hurriedly about the room, his eyes coming to rest on Liz.

"You really are awake," he muttered, walking slowly to the bed. "Bloody hell, woman, you gave us quite the fright."

"It wasn't by choice, believe me." She paused, considering the situation, her palm absentmindedly resting on Puck's back. "Actually, it technically was, and I really have no one to blame but myself. So…sorry?"

George replied with his token Weasley grin. "The next time you want to go blowing things up, Liz, just owl me. I've got plenty of products to do the trick without causing any actual bodily harm." She chuckled, causing his grin to widen. "Honestly, though, could you maybe not do this ever again? There are better ways of gaining media attention."

She grimaced, stealing a glance at Harry. "Is it really that bad?"

He appeared to seriously consider before answering. "If the Prophet put this much effort into any tidbit of real news, we would have known Voldemort was on his way back before Sirius had even escaped from Azkaban, and we could have finished that whole business by fourth year. Unfortunately, the paper has the tendency to focus a bit too forcefully on the more ridiculous aspects of life, like the possible romances of a group of teenagers, than something actually newsworthy. Not that this all isn't terribly important, of course."

Attempting to cover her smirk, she replied with her own, "Of course." They all continued to talk companionably of trivial topics, George and Harry only slightly sharp with Alex. Sensing the tension, he took his leave not long afterwards, vowing to see her the next day. George eventually followed, leaving the cousins finally alone.

"It's all out there, then," Liz stated, Harry still seated at her side in the bed. "Everyone remembers."

She felt Harry nod into her shoulder and saw him reach out to scratch her pet behind his ears. "Yes. It also turns out that you were born here – the Weasleys met you before Dumbledore cast the spell. Guess you really are English after all."

She frowned, unsure how to take the news. "In a way, I suppose, but Alex is right – I was raised in America, I'm more American than anything. I don't know where I belong."

Harry looked down at her, a touch of sadness in his gaze. "You'll be going home, then? To America?"

"I never said that." She sighed, throwing her head back against the pillows. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

He gave her hand a squeeze and stood, looking down at her affectionately. "Don't worry about it now; you'll have plenty of time to consider once you're well."

Realizing the truth of his words, she nodded a final time before slipping back into sleep.

Two days later, Liz was finally allowed to leave St. Mungo's, her familiar in tow. The hospital arranged a Floo directly to the Burrow, allowing her to avoid the paparazzi for the time being. She knew she would inevitably be forced to interact with them, but she would rather it be on her terms, while she was well. And at the moment, neither was feasible.

Mrs. Weasley nearly begged to have Liz come and stay with them until she was healed, insisting that she and Harry could use a bit of extra mothering. The two reluctantly agreed, unwilling to admit that they may actually need the help, and a spare room was soon arranged for her. Harry, as was usual with all of his extended stays at the Burrow, situated himself in Ron's old room, and overall the arrangement was better than either expected.

They received a steady stream of visitors, though Mrs. Weasley only allowed a very few specific ones in to see Liz. One of the most surprising was Minerva McGonagall, who arrived decked in her traditional set of teaching robes despite the unnaturally warm spring weather. She found Liz alone in the Weasleys' backyard, resting against a large tree beside the garden. While she held a book in her hands and Puck nestled snugly in her lap, her attention was really held by the activities of a trio of gnomes not far off. When it became clear that she was lost in thought and unlikely to notice her on her own, McGonagall cleared her throat to gain the young woman's attention.

"Oh! Professor!" Liz jumped slightly, reaching for her wand instinctively. "My reflexes aren't quite up to par after my illness, it seems. Harry will be so disappointed."

Conjuring a stool, the headmistress sat at the witch's side, sparing a glance at the pup sleeping in her lap. "I doubt that very much – besides, you'll return to normal with rest and time." She paused to meet Liz's eyes, studying her features over the top of her spectacles. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Liz replied, setting her book aside. "To what do I owe this visit?"

She considered her answer a long moment before speaking. "Though I am not one obligated to pry into your business, Miss Potter, I was wondering what your next course of action will be once you are well enough to seek one."

Liz groaned softly, her gaze falling back to the garden and its occupants as she petted Puck distractedly. "I'm not sure. I've got decent reasons to both stay and go, but nothing to indicate which I should choose. I'm kind of stuck, Professor."

"Might I offer a suggestion?" At her enthusiastic encouragement, McGonagall continued, "It seems that Hogwarts is in need of a new Potions professor. Stanton's students performed lacklusterly at best, and I fear his fragile sensibilities might not allow him another year at the task. I came to offer you the post."

Liz leaned away from the elderly witch, slightly taken aback. "You…want me to teach at Hogwarts? But…I didn't even go there. Is that even allowed?"

Smiling slightly, McGonagall replied, "You are not the only non-student to hold a teaching position at Hogwarts, Miss Potter. Professor Kroon, our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, attended Beauxbatons when he was a boy. If that is your only objection, I assure you it is but an insubstantial one." When she continued to appear unconvinced, McGonagall prodded, "What is the real reason keeping you from saying yes?"

Cringing, Liz finally spoke. "Alex. He was right. I ought to go back home. I already have a business, and friends, and a life, there. I shouldn't just drop it all just because I found something different here."

"May I ask you a personal question, Miss Potter?" When Liz nodded, she continued, "Whose life, exactly, are you living?"

Liz blinked, not entirely comprehending the question. "Excuse me?"

"Whose life are you living?" McGonagall calmly asked again. "Yours or someone else's?"

"Mine, I suppose – "

"And who, therefore, has the say in what you ought or ought not to do with it?"

"Me."

"Precisely. You are responsible for yourself, and it is only you who may make the choices of what you shall do with what you are given. Taking into consideration those around you, those you care about, is important, certainly, but in the end it is your opinion that matters most." She stood, vanishing the chair. "I do not expect an answer immediately, Miss Potter. I simply hope you will take my words to heart." With that, she began to make her way back to the house.

They were all valid points, ones Liz felt ridiculous for not realizing more fully on her own. Either choice she made was sure to disappoint someone, but did it actually matter as long as she was content? She owed it to herself, for her happiness and well-being, to do what she thought proper with her short existence. "Professor, wait!"

McGonagall paused to turn, raising a single eyebrow.

"Is Puck welcome as well?"

The witch nodded, her eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. Liz gave a single nod in response before replying.

"Yes."

Alex had been disappointed when he learned of her decision, of course, but he understood in the end. Over the course of the two weeks he visited with her, he watched the interactions with her new friends and family, seeing how well she meshed with each and the comfort and ease that had overtaken her. When he learned of her new job, he could not help but joke that with how often she helped him and their classmates at school, it was inevitable that some day she'd find a way to do it full time. She was miserable to see him return home, but felt confident she had made the right decision. As she and Harry bid him a final farewell, Harry turned to her sedately.

"Do you regret it?" he asked, a slight twinge of reluctance in his voice.

Grasping his arm, she pulled him toward the exit. "Not on your life."

_The End_

_For now._


End file.
